


a confused pedestrian considered calling a cab

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Series: a contextualization [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Character Study, Coming Out, M/M, background Mikey/Taylor, background TK/Law, i'm really not sure what this is but i finally finished it, messy closet feelings and bitterness, past Connor/Dylan and Mitch/Dylan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-17 20:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14197248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: “I’m just saying, it feels like every time I’m in on someone’s gay crisis, they end up with a boyfriend, but I’m still single.” Dylan shrugs. “It’s annoying, is all.”





	a confused pedestrian considered calling a cab

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%.
> 
> unbeta'd, detailed warnings in the endnotes.

Mitch Marner has a boyfriend. 

Dylan’s happy for him, because he should be. Mitch is a good guy, and he’s clearly happy with Matthews, and Dylan’s not petty enough to think that Mitch literally just came out of the closet and found a boyfriend four seconds later, because that’s not what happened, but it kind of feels like it, anyway.  

The last boy Dylan kissed was in a game of fucking spin the bottle, and the one he’d kissed before him was Connor, so. Sue him for being bitter and lonely. 

Dylan doesn’t actually think things come easier for Mitch, because Mitch struggles a lot, sometimes. It just feels like Mitch gets the happy ending he deserves, while Dylan doesn’t. 

Honestly, Dylan’s not sure what he deserves, at this point.

…… 

Mikey likes kissing. 

He’s a cuddler, and a hugger, and he pretty much hangs off anyone who lets him, and he kisses his friends, wet, sloppy things on their cheeks after wins or losses or too many drinks. Occasionally he’ll make out with another dude, to, like, prove a point, or something—it’s pretty transparent, but Dylan bites his tongue about it, because he doesn’t think sitting Mikey down and forcing him to watch a PowerPoint that’s just 80 slides of  _ YOU’RE NOT STRAIGHT _ written in all-caps will do anyone any good. 

Dylan still kind of wants to. 

“You’re all grumpy,” Mikey says, and his arms are wrapped around Dylan’s neck. A part of Dylan wants to be annoyed, but he hasn’t touched another guy like this in so long, so he puts his hands on Mikey’s hips. It’s shitty, passing this off as bro-stuff, but Dylan’s already guilty about plenty of stuff, so he figures one more thing can’t hurt. 

It’s not like he’s into him. Mikey’s cute, but he’s also Mikey. He’s not quite Dylan’s little brother, because Dylan’s actual little brother is much more annoying, and looks up to him much more, but still, he’s an old friend, and honestly, he’s not really Dylan’s type.   

“My ex has a new boyfriend,” Dylan says. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Aw,” Mikey says, all pouty, which means he’s really drunk. “You should make her jealous.” 

Dylan laughs. “That’s a terrible idea.” 

“No it’s not,” Mikey says, and he moves a little closer. 

Dylan’s also drunk, so it takes him a second to realize what’s happening, and he tries to duck away politely. “It’s fine, we broke up forever ago. It’s just weird.” 

“When was this?” Mikey asks, and he’s straight-up staring at Dylan’s mouth now. 

“Draft year and the year before,” Dylan says. 

“I don’t remember you having a girlfriend.” 

“It wasn’t—it was barely a thing, just—forget it,” Dylan says. 

Mikey hums. “I still think you should try to make her jealous.” 

“That wouldn’t do any good,” Dylan says. 

“It wouldn’t do any bad,” Mikey says.

“What’re you—” 

“Kiss me,” Mikey says, almost a blurt, but he doesn’t waver, doesn’t look embarrassed, and Dylan’s too stunned to say anything. 

His eyes flicker down to Mikey’s lips, and he realizes Mikey is leaning in, and there’s a second where Dylan thinks,  _ fuck it, why not?  _ He hasn’t kissed anyone new in so fucking long, and his barely-ex has a real, actual boyfriend now, and he’s wallowing in so much self pity he might actually drown, at this point, so he thinks about closing his eyes and just, like, letting Mikey do this. 

Except he doesn’t, because he has to draw the line somewhere, and letting Mikey McLeod kiss him because he’s confused and Dylan’s sad seems like a good place. 

“What are you doing?” Dylan asks, and he lets go and puts,like, actual space between them. 

“I—” Mikey says. “I was just messing around.” 

“Seriously?” Dylan says. 

“What, do you have a problem with guys kissing other guys?” Mikey says. “Girls do that shit all the time, it’s not any different.” 

“It’s just—boundaries, dude,” Dylan says. 

“You can just say no,” Mikey says. 

“I told you I wasn’t trying to make anyone jealous,” Dylan says.

“I know, that’s why I didn’t say you should kiss another girl in front of her,” Mikey says, and he’s floundering. Dylan kind of wants to scream at him, but Mikey’s so confused and scared, and he doesn’t even know it yet, so Dylan’s stuck with some weird combination of anger and sympathy that makes him feel really fucking guilty. 

“Okay, well, whatever,” Dylan says. “I don’t want to kiss you either, then.” 

“Fine,” Mikey says, clearly hurt, and then he stomps away. 

Dylan sighs, then pulls out his phone and texts Nick.  _ i cant believe i miss az  _

_ az misses u 2 B’(,  _ Nick sends back, and Dylan’s very drunk, and feels a little like garbage, but he smiles at it anyway. 

…… 

“Hey, what’s up?” Nick says the next day when Dylan calls. “What has you missing the desert?” 

“It’s so cold, and all the usual… Mississauga drama,” Dylan says. 

“Sounds fun,” Nick says, and Dylan can picture his smile. 

“Tons of it,” Dylan says. “Tell me about the sun, I miss it.” 

Nick does. 

…… 

Dylan’s not back for that long, just stopping in and checking on his team Canada boys while he has a few days off, and he tells himself that’s the reason he doesn’t even try to see Mitch. 

It’s not like Mitch is reaching out, either, and he knows Mitch saw his snap story, complete with GTA geofilter. But Mitch is busy with his boyfriend and being an NHL star, and Dylan’s busy feeling sorry for himself and hiding from the McLeods, so really, both of them have too much on their plates to make it work, probably.

…… 

So, Dylan goes back to Tucson. 

“Oh my god, I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to see a cactus,” Dylan says. 

“What, things that rough back home?” Nick asks. 

Dylan waves a hand. “Mikey’s pissed at me, and someone I used to have a thing with has officially moved on, so.” 

“Ah,” Nick says. “Sounds like you’re due for a break, then.” 

Nick getting sent down might’ve been that break, if Dylan’s honest. Not that Nick deserves to be down, because neither of them does, but Dylan likes Nick a lot. 

…… 

Dylan figures out the Mikey and T thing before anyone tells him. It’s mostly just because he knows them both well. 

It’s probably not gonna end well. 

“Just, like, be careful,” Dylan says. 

Taylor blushes. “It’s not—did he say something?”

“You were making out in the background of half my insta feed,” Dylan says. 

“Wait—”

“Not public ones, don’t worry,” Dylan says. “I’m just warning you, he’s not—he’s got some shit to work out.” 

“He can work it out with me,” Taylor says. 

Dylan winces, thankful Taylor can’t see over the phone. He doesn’t know exactly what Mikey and T are doing, but he knows Mikey’s not working shit out. 

“The worst part about being in Arizona,” Dylan says later, to Nick, “is that I can’t babysit half the OHL from here.” 

“Do they really need you to?” Nick says. 

“Unfortunately,” Dylan says, and Nick pats his knee and gives him a sympathetic look. 

…… 

Dylan tweets at both Mikey and Taylor when Canada wins gold, partially because they’re his closest friends, and partially because he’s petty as fuck, and doesn’t approve of whatever that situation is. 

“I thought you weren’t talking to McLeod,” Nick says. 

Dylan shrugs. “His mom follows me on Twitter, she’d notice if I didn’t congratulate him.” 

“Of course she does,” Nick says. “Why do you know everyone’s mom? Were you, like, in their book club?”

“Fuck you,” Dylan says, but he grins a little as he rolls his eyes. 

There’s a beat of silence, and it’s not particularly uncomfortable, but when Nick speaks, he sounds hesitant. “So, what happened with you and McLeod, anyway?” 

“Just… it’s a long story,” Dylan says. 

“I’ve got time,” Nick says. 

“It’s just dumb stuff,” Dylan says. He likes Nick, a lot, and he also likes who he is with Nick; like, yeah, he’s still caught up in OHL drama, but his friendship with Nick is just—chill. Simple. Mature, in a way, even if Dylan is barely an adult at all. Nick is one of the few people who looks at Dylan and thinks he should be an adult, though, and Dylan likes that. 

“Okay,” Nick says, sounding unconvinced. 

“It’s just—Mikey’s got his shit, y’know?” Dylan says. “I probably shouldn’t—“

“Oh,” Nick says. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense.” 

“Sorry,” Dylan says. 

Nick shakes his head. “It’s fine, I just—you know you can tell me shit, yeah?” 

“I know,” Dylan says, and it’s not really true. 

Nick seems to buy it, though. 

…… 

It should say something about the people Dylan’s friends with that he’s not at all surprised to receive a phone call at 1AM the night of the gold medal game.

“Hey—” Dylan says, but Mikey’s already talking, the mile-a-minute panic sounding strange in his voice.

“How the fuck am I still in love with him?” he says. “Seriously, it’s—holy fuck, I love him. I  _ love  _ him. I’m literally in love with him, and it’s just—how? How is it even possible to love someone for, like, three fucking years—”    

“Breathe,” Dylan says. “In, out, okay?” 

“No,” Mikey says. “No, I—did you hear what I said? I’m in  _ love  _ with him, how am I supposed to—“

“Same as you always do,” Dylan says. “Inhale, exhale.”

“Stop it, this is important,” Mikey says.

“I know,” Dylan says patiently. “Which is why you need to calm down.” 

“I’m calm,” Mikey snaps. “Can you—just listen to me? Please?” 

“I’m listening, dude,” Dylan says. 

“Good,” Mikey says. “I—” his voice catches in his throat, and Dylan can hear it coming in short. 

“Mikey?” Dylan says. 

“Sorry,” Mikey says, kind of gasping. “Sorry, I—”

“It’s okay,” Dylan says. “In, out.” 

On the other end of the line, Mikey inhales, a little shaky, then pushes the air out of his lungs.

“Good,” Dylan says, his voice soothing. “You’ll be okay.”

 

“Sorry,” Mikey says, once is breath is under control again. 

“No worries,” Dylan says. “Do you have water?” 

“I’m in the bathroom.”

“Get a glass,” Dylan says. “You should really hydrate, man.”

“I was drinking water before,” Mikey says. 

“How much did you have to drink?” 

“A lot,” Mikey admits. “I mean—it was a big night, lots of champagne.” 

“Better than last year.”

Mikey chokes out something that could be a laugh. “Yeah, guess so.” 

“So,” Dylan says. “You wanna talk about it?” 

“I—” Mikey sighs. “Fuck, I really fucked up.” 

“What happened?” 

“I was—uh, with Taylor,” Mikey says. “We were—we’ve been sort of, like, hanging out a lot.” 

“Hanging out,” Dylan echoes. 

“Like, he—I don’t—” Mikey cuts himself off, takes another breath. “Hooking up, I guess.”

“Alright,” Dylan says, trying to keep his voice even. 

“It’s not—I’m not sure if I’m supposed to tell you that? I don’t know, but we—like, it was just a buddies thing, y’know? But then it got sort of—intense, and we were in our room, and just, like, in his bed—” 

“Did things go too far?” Dylan says, straightening up real fast. “Are you—”

“No, it’s not like that,” Mikey says. “We were just—like, literally, clothes-on cuddling. Or, like, we were kind of kissing, but then I was like, ‘we’re drunk, we should stop,’ and he was super chill about it.” 

“Okay,” Dylan says, relaxing a bit. 

“He like, giggled,” Mikey said. “And he kissed the top of my head.”

Dylan thinks Mikey’s gonna add something to that, but he doesn’t. “Sounds like he was really… sweet.”

“He was,” Mikey says. “And this entire tourney I’ve been trying to figure out—like, I felt bad when I kept wanting to do shit with him, and I kept thinking, like, ‘oh, we can kiss, but not make out,’ or ‘we can make out, but only when it’s like a party,’ but then it wasn’t a party, and we were just kissing in his room, and it was just, like—it was fun, and I liked it, so we kept doing stuff.”

“Okay,” Dylan says. “It’s—you know it’s okay, to want to do stuff, as long as you’re both on board.” 

“I know,” Mikey says. 

“Even if he’s a guy,” Dylan says. 

There’s a pause on the other end, and then, “It’s—I was trying not to think about that part.”

“Mikey—” 

“It’s not like—like, I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with it,” Mikey says. “It’s just that I thought it was a thing everyone felt, y’know? Just—it’s something people don’t talk about, but it’s something everyone wants, right?” 

“I—” Dylan bites his lip, tries to think of the right words. “Maybe that’s true, but—I don’t think that’s everyone, no.” 

Mikey sighs. “I guess I always knew I… liked that kind of thing, more than other guys, but then it was like—I dunno, I just looked at him, and it was like—I thought, like, ‘if I was into guys, I’d probably think he was cute,’ but then my brain was like, ‘I think that’s the same as finding him cute,’ and I sort of realized—like, I  _ like  _ him. A bunch, and not in a bros way. I, like, seriously like him.”

“Okay,” Dylan says. “That’s really good, dude.” 

“No,” Mikey says. “No, because then I sort of realized—if I like Taylor, then I like guys, and if that’s, like, an option, then…” his voice trails off. 

“I know it’s hard to realize these things about yourself—” Dylan starts, but he’s cut off by Mikey. 

“No, that’s not what—that’s not where I was headed,” Mikey says. “I think I’m in love with Nate.” 

“You’re—” Dylan says, and then, “Oh.” 

It’s quiet for a second, and—yeah, Dylan saw it coming, but still.  

He doesn’t really know what else to say.

“Did everyone know but me?” Mikey says. “Like, looking back, it was pretty fucking obvious.” 

“This is one of those things that most people don’t really assume,” Dylan says.  

“Most people?”

“Straight people,” Dylan says. 

“Oh,” Mikey says. “I’m… I’m not a straight person.” He sounds like he’s testing the words out. 

“Probably not,” Dylan says. “I mean, congratulations, dude.” 

“Wait, does this—am I coming out right now?” Mikey asks. 

“Uh, maybe? Technically?” Dylan says, and he shrugs, even though Mikey can’t see it. “I don’t know, a little, I guess.” 

“God,” Mikey says. “That’s a thing, I’m—this is, like, actually happening.” 

“It is,” Dylan says. 

“I’m really in love with Nate,” Mikey says. “I—wow, shit, I literally asked Shero to draft him because I just—” he cuts himself off. “Wow.” 

“You guys are close,” Dylan says. “And it gets confusing, when you’re not really sure.” 

“Still, that’s, like—holy fuck, I was, like, seriously repressing this shit,” Mikey says. “I didn’t even realize I could do that by accident.” 

Dylan bites back a laugh. “Happens to the best of us.” 

…… 

Lawson gets sent down, so he joins Nick and Dylan for brunch on Sunday.

Brunch, in this case, means getting high at 9:30 in the morning and heading over to a diner that gives them a discount for being regulars, and not for being Roadrunners. The weed is an important part of the whole experience—they’re pro athletes with a little bit of cash to burn, and so, while they can’t afford to buy Rolexes without thinking twice, they can spend money on good weed easily. Plus, the weed here is better than anything available in the entirety of Ontario, and because they’re AHL players in Arizona, no one cares if they spend their morning stoned in a diner eating french fries.

“You’re really wolfing those down,” Dylan says, impressed. 

Lawson swallows. “Gotta be home to watch the game.” 

“Which game?” Nick asks. 

“Trav’s,” Lawson says, like it should be obvious, which it is to Dylan, but probably wouldn’t be to Nick, because there are too many Travises, and not many people outside the OHL are aware of the whole Lawson-and-Travis situation. It’s been a while since Nick played on a team with both of them, Dylan figures. 

Except, Nick isn’t surprised at all. 

“Aw,” he says, before sticking a fry in his mouth. 

Dylan blinks at Nick, then turns to Lawson and squints. Lawson, for his part, looks vaguely guilty. 

“Aw?” Dylan repeats, raising his eyebrows. 

“So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you—” Lawson starts, but Dylan doesn’t let him finish. 

“Something you already told Merks?” he says. 

“Well, I was telling him—you know, the whole thing, and it’s easier to say ‘I have a boyfriend’ than—” 

“ _ Boyfriend?”  _ Dylan says. “Since when are you two boyfriends?”

“Uh, I mean—spring, if we’re being technical, but we only started telling people in November—” 

“It’s January,” Dylan says. “It is straight-up January, and you’ve been telling people since  _ November.” _

“Well, you were grumpy about Marns all fall,” Lawson says, which is, like, four different things he Should Not Say all in one short sentence. 

Dylan looks at Nick, whose face is very confused. “Marns?” 

“Lawson can explain,” Dylan says, crossing his arms and glaring. 

Lawson turns to Nick. “So, Marns has a boyfriend.” 

“Marns has—” Nick blinks. “You mean, like, Mitch Marner?”

“Yes,” Dylan says. 

“What does that have anything to do with any of us?” Nick asks. 

“It’s why Dylan was in a bad mood forever,” Lawson says. “Because he was in love with him, or whatever.” 

“I wasn’t in love with him, it was about the principle,” Dylan says. “He’s in the world’s deepest closet for years, and then suddenly, he has a boyfriend? Just like that?”

“You can’t begrudge him the happiness,” Lawson says. 

“I don’t, it’s just—like, come  _ on,”  _ Dylan says. “Good for him, but it just feels unbalanced.” 

“And you’re also in love with him,” Lawson says. 

“I’m not,” Dylan says. 

“You were.” 

“When I was 16, that’s—”

“Wait,” Nick says, and Dylan remembers that Nick’s there, and that Nick doesn’t know, like, a lot of things. 

Well, that’s one way to come out, Dylan supposes. 

“I’m just saying, it feels like every time I’m in on someone’s gay crisis, they end up with a boyfriend, but I’m still single.” Dylan shrugs. “It’s annoying, is all. You’d be grumpy too if you were me.” 

“So you’re not in love with Marns,” Nick says. 

“No, I’m just jealous,” Dylan says. “If I was in love with Marns, I’d have way more problems in my life.”

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Lawson says, reaching forward to pat Dylan’s hand, but Dylan moves it away.

“You have a boyfriend, you’re not gonna make me feel better,” he says. He’s a little serious, but mostly joking. 

“I’m single,” Nick volunteers. 

Dylan puts his head down on the table and lets Nick run his fingers through his hair. It’s probably unsanitary, but Dylan truly couldn’t give less of a shit about that if he tried, because he’s stoned, single, and sad. “Sorry for whining.”

Lawson snorts. “Since when do you apologize for whining?”

“Fuck you, go text your boyfriend, or whatever it is couples do.” 

“It’s all he ever does,” Nick says. “It’s kind of gross.”

“They were gross even before they were dating,” Dylan says. “He turned TK soft.”

“He’s not soft. He could beat your lanky ass up, so you can go fuck yourself,” Lawson says.

“You could beat me up, if you wanted,” Dylan says. “Doesn’t mean you’re not soft.” 

Lawson just throws a french fry at him. It bounce off Dylan’s nose and onto the table, and is then picked up by Nick, who seems more than happy to eat it. 

…… 

Listen, Dylan’s not saying he’s a trendsetter, just because he came out before all his friends did. 

Like, he is, but he’s not gonna be the one to say it. 

He’s got a good sense of himself; he’s always known he’s only ever liked boys, and he tells people when it’s necessary, the same way he does anything. 

Like, when Lawson had asked Dylan at the beginning of December why he’d been ghosting on him, Dylan had just gotten wind of Mitch Marner’s Boyfriend News, so he’d grumbled out something about that over the phone, because, in Dylan’s opinion, it wasn’t strictly necessary that Lawson know about Dylan’s ill-advised hookup with his ex. 

Um.

What happened was— 

Like. 

Dylan got called up, and then he was playing against him in his first game of the season, and—look, Dylan is over it, he  _ is,  _ but the whole thing about breaking up was that Connor is so convinced he’s straight, and when he’d gotten all moony-eyed and “I miss you” and “I think we made a mistake” and “it hasn’t been as good with anyone else,” Dylan had known that Connor meant it, and he’d also known that he wouldn’t feel the same way the next day. But Dylan had gone ahead and done it anyway, because he was feeling a little too at home on top of the world. 

Look. Dylan’s had his heart broken a lot, and it felt good to be the heartbreaker, for once. 

For a little. 

That is, until he and Connor had talked the next morning, which ended up turning into a fight, where Dylan finally told Connor that it was really fucking shitty of him to act like he cared about Dylan for months— 

_ I do care.  _

To fuck him and act like it meant something— 

_ It did. _

To tell other people that Dylan was his  _ boyfriend  _ when they hadn’t even discussed shit— 

_ I thought we were.  _

Then to just turn around and say it didn’t matter at all, the second they agreed it needed to end. 

_ I never said that.  _

It had not been a fun conversation, to say the least.

 

(“You said you were straight,” Dylan had said. “That was what you said to me right after dumping me—” 

“You dumped me, Dyls,” Connor said, his calm front cracking for the first time since they’d started talking. “And I am, okay? I’m just—I thought about it, you know I did, but—” 

“Being into girls doesn’t make you straight.”

“I’m fucking aware, thanks,” Connor said. “But I’m not gonna date other guys, okay?”

“Lying to yourself isn’t any easier than knowing that you can’t have what you want,” Dylan said. 

“I’m not lying to myself.” 

“I’m sorry, whose bed did you wake up naked in this morning after begging me to take you back?” It wasn’t fair, but Dylan’s always known how to spark the truth out of Connor. It’s not a talent he likes to wield, because he usually doesn’t want to hurt Connor’s feelings, but that time had been an exception. 

“Saying that breaking up was a mistake isn’t the same as saying we should get back together,” Connor said, low and biting. “Because we definitely shouldn’t do that, because you’re a fucking asshole, apparently. And, like, fuck you, I never said I didn’t fucking love you, okay? But it was an exception.” 

“Wow, it’s nice to be the exceptional one for once,” Dylan said. 

“Oh my god, can you ever get over yourself and stop being a jealous piece of crap?” Connor snapped. 

“I just don’t know how someone can stay in the closet after having a relationship with another man, it’s pretty impressive,” Dylan said. 

“Look, I don’t like guys who aren’t you, okay? I know what I feel, and I know what I could call it, and I’m  _ not,  _ because it doesn’t feel right. And maybe that will change, and I’m open to that, but I fucking tried to, and—like, I want to fit into one of those boxes, but I just don’t.” 

“Man, I can hear you compartmentalizing from here,” Dylan said. 

“Ooh, nice word,” Connor said, sarcastic. “Hey, Dyl, are you smarter than me, or something? You don’t bring it up enough, so I’m not really sure.” 

“I don’t—”

“While we’re at it, are you smarter than everyone, ever?” Connor said. “Do you know everything about everyone before they do? Or is that only true for the people you call your friends?”

“This is so uncalled for,” Dylan said. “Fuck you, get out of my house, you fucking—”

“Oh, gladly,” Connor said, standing up. 

“Have fun in the fucking closet,” Dylan said. 

“I’m not in the fucking closet,” Connor said. “Can you stop fucking saying that? I will gladly tell  _ anyone  _ who will listen that I have the world’s worst ex-boyfriend—” 

“So bad that he turned you off to men entirely?”

“No, he was just so fucking stubborn that he managed to throw away years of friendship because he couldn’t accept that he was wrong,” Connor said, pushing past Dylan. “Fuck this, I can’t believe it took me this long to fall out of love with you.” 

“Thought you didn’t want to get back together,” Dylan said to his retreating form. 

Connor turned around, and he sighed, looking more worn-down than anything else. “It’s funny how you keep telling me I’m lying to myself when you’re the one who refuses to believe that anyone cares about him.”

“Clearly you don’t,” Dylan said, but it felt like a lie, and they both knew it. 

“You know we broke up because you didn’t love me anymore, right?” Connor said, a little softer. “Not because you were jealous, or mad, or whatever—we just stopped paying attention to each other, and then I wasn’t your best friend anymore, and that was what you wanted.” 

“I didn’t like anyone else,” Dylan said. 

Connor shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. You just—you stopped trusting me, and didn’t know how to start again, and that’s why things ended.” 

“Now who’s talking like he knows everything?” Dylan asked.

“You know it too,” Connor said. “I guess it’s probably a good thing, that we broke up.” 

It felt like a bucket of ice water being poured all over Dylan, and then: 

“But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it.” 

Dylan had been silent for a few seconds. 

Finally, he’d said, “Goodbye, Davo.” 

“See you, Stromer.” 

And then, Connor had left, and Dylan’s been thinking about their conversation ever since.) 

…… 

In other news: Lawson is an unstoppable force of nature when it comes to showing Dylan pictures of Travis, because he probably feels bad for not telling Dylan, even though Dylan has no right to feel entitled to that information. 

Thinking back, it’s a little nice that Lawson didn’t tell him. Like, someone actually thinking that maybe Dylan doesn’t have time to personally attend to their shit? That’s new. 

“Hey, so,” Dylan says to Nick, “don’t mention this to Law, and don’t make this a thing, but I got dumped a few months ago.” 

“Oh,” Nick says, and Dylan tries to find some weirded-out-ness or hesitation on his face, but it’s impressively even. “Sucks, dude.”

“I just—I don’t want to explain the whole thing to him, but I just kinda wanted to get it off my chest,” Dylan says. 

“Shitty breakup?”

“Are there any not-shitty breakups?”

Nick shrugs. “Fair enough.” 

“I’m over it,” Dylan says. “Or, mostly over it.”

“How much is mostly?”

Dylan makes a noncommittal gesture. “I’m not still hung up on him, but it’s—sticky, I guess.” 

“Sticky.” Nick seems to accept that answer. “Well, your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Thanks,” Dylan says, giving Nick a small smile, which earns him the same in return. 

It’s the kind of smile that’s hard not to fall for, if Dylan’s being perfectly honest, but the what-if pangs are small, because the moment is small, so he’s able to ignore them.  

…… 

Of course Nick is there when Davo drunk-dials Dylan from Vegas. Of course he is. 

“Can I just say,” Connor slurs, as soon as Dylan answers. “I’m so happy we’re still fighting.” 

“Hey, sorry I—”

“No, I’m serious, I was so happy you didn’t call to wish me a happy birthday,” Connor says. “Because I was worried you just forgot about me, but if you forgot, you would’ve called, because you’re, like, a robot-friend.” 

“Please drink some coffee,” Dylan says, because Connor’s at the not-making-sense level of drunk. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Connor says. “I’m with friends, they think this is cath—cath-arctic?”

“Cathartic,” Dylan says, smiling a little bit despite himself.

“Yeah, that,” Connor says, as Nick gives Dylan a confused look, and Dylan just mouths  _ drunk dial  _ at him. “Anyway, just wanted to make sure you know that we’re fighting, and not, like, over. I mean, friend-over. Like, you dumped me, but then we had a fight that might’ve been, like, closure? I don’t know, whatever, the point is, you’re an asshole, but you’re my asshole, we’re just really bad boyfriends.” 

“Okay, I like where this conversation is headed, but can we have it sober? Please?” Dylan says, grinning full-on now. 

“Alright, but over the phone, because if you’re there in person I’m gonna want to fu—wait, Stromer wants the phone.” 

“I’m Stromer,” Dylan says. 

“No, I mean—” Connor says, and then there’s some rustling on the other end. 

“Hello?” says a voice that Dylan recognizes very quickly. 

“Hey,” Dylan says slowly. “Sup, Ry?”

Ryan is silent for a beat, then sighs. “I thought you were past all this drama, dude.” 

“He’s the one who called me.” 

“Because of shit that went down with both of you.” 

“In the past.” 

“In November.”

“Which is the past,” Dylan says. He glances over at Nick, who is very pointedly trying not to listen in. Dylan is suddenly very embarrassed that this is happening, right now. “Look, we’ll talk when you guys are sober, okay?”

“You and me, or you and him?”

“Both,” Dylan says. “Go celebrate, I’m hanging up now.”

As he does, he wonders how many loose ends he’s gonna have to tie up. 

…… 

Being in Tucson comes with an anonymity that Dylan didn’t even get in Erie, and in January, it occurs to Dylan that he could be taking advantage of that, so he downloads Tinder. 

He figures that, worst case scenario, he can delete the apps and claim the profiles were fake, and anyway, it’s not like anyone’s gonna get anything out of outing him. He’s on a minor league hockey team in a major Arizona city; he’s not like Connor or Mitch, who people pay attention to.

“Jesus,” Nick says, looking over Dylan’s shoulder as he swipes left for the seventh time in a row. “You’re harsh.” 

Dylan shrugs. “I know what I like.” 

“Are you sure it’s guys?” Nick asks. “Because you don’t seem to like any of the ones here.” 

“For the first time in my life, I can afford to be picky,” Dylan says. “Let me have this.” 

“I’m not judging,” Nick says, not looking away from Dylan’s screen as he continues to swipe. 

Dylan looks up and gives him a small smile. “You’re a little bit judging me.” 

“Promise I’m not,” Nick says, grinning back, and Dylan just shakes his head fondly as he continues to swipe. 

…… 

Dylan hooks up at the All-Star weekend. 

It’s just the AHL All-Star weekend, so, like, it’s not much, but there are still perks to being there, and also, a lot of booze. 

They’re both wasted, but the guy knows the deal, and Dylan sees a Grinder notification pop up on his phone, so at least he’s not dealing with someone who’s totally in the closet. 

It’s—fine. Nothing special. He’s a handsome guy, and he gives great head, and—

Dylan’s phone rings, and he sees that it’s Lawson. 

“Shit, sorry,” Dylan says, and the guy pulls off him, confused. 

“You’re answering?” He sounds vaguely offended, which is probably fair.

“Sorry,” Dylan repeats, and before he can say anything else, he answers. “Make it quick—” 

“What are you  _ doing,”  _ Lawson says at the other end, angrier than Dylan’s ever heard him before. 

“Uh, you don’t want the details,” Dylan says, mildly annoyed. 

“Merks is freaking out,” Lawson says. 

“Fuck, what?” Dylan says, pulling up his pants. There’s a chance he’s being a shitty hookup, but it’s in the name of being a good friend, so it probably evens out, karmically. 

“He’s in your room,” Lawson says. “Go find him.” 

“On it,” Dylan says, hanging up, and then he turns to the guy and gives him a mildly apologetic smile. “Sorry, something came up.” 

“Seriously?” the guy says. 

“It’s an emergency,” Dylan says. “My friend needs me.”

“Are you always at someone’s beck and call?” the guy asks. 

“Yes,” Dylan says without hesitating. 

“So what, you’ve got a boyfriend?” 

“I’ve got friends,” Dylan says. “Close friends.” 

“So basically, a boyfriend who won’t fuck you,” the guys says. 

Dylan rolls his eyes. “You’re kind of a dick.” 

“You’re the one ditching me for a friend emergency,” the guy says. “You’re not gonna find a guy if you’re spending all your time worrying about making your buddies happy, you know that, right?”

“You have a lot of opinions on my life, for someone who just met me,” Dylan says. 

“I know your type,” the guy says, not missing a beat. 

Dylan feels a little bit like he’s met his match. 

 

When he gets back to the hotel room, Merks is sitting on the bed, wide-eyed. 

“I told Lawson not to bother you,” he says. 

“Why?” 

“Because you were—” he waves a hand. “Occupied.” 

“That could’ve waited,” Dylan says. “Seriously, whatever the reason—”

“That’s the thing, I don’t have a reason, and that’s why I told Law and not you,” Nick says. “I’m just—I’m feeling off.” 

“Well, I’m here now, so,” Dylan says. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Nick shrugs, and he looks almost pale, his breath coming in short. He really doesn’t look okay at all. “Uh, I guess, just—being here?” 

“Okay,” Dylan says, and then he sits on the bed next to Nick. “This good?” 

“Yeah,” Nick says, then scoots a little closer. 

Dylan gets the message, and puts an arm around him. 

He’s warm, is the first thing Dylan realizes, and the second is that he’s tense, a little shaky. It feels like he’s not letting himself relax against Dylan fully, and that makes Dylan’s brow furrow in concern, but he tries to be as soothing as possible, because Nick should feel okay leaning on him like this. 

If Dylan’s heart does anything it shouldn’t, it won’t be because Nick needs a friend. It will be because Nick smiled at him too much this past summer, and Dylan’s heart has been open for too long. 

After a few minutes, Nick tucks his face into Dylan’s shirt. 

…… 

Dylan is trying really, really hard to avoid falling into old patterns, but Nick’s making that difficult.

At least things don’t feel, like, volatile, but after the All-Star game, they just get closer. Dylan’s always done this—singled out one guy to be his  _ best  _ friend, to be the person he defaults to—and like, Nick had seemed safe, because he’s always been chill. He shouldn’t get too caught up in the fact that Dylan likes him more than he likes most people, because everyone likes him, so Dylan had figured that he’d be—used to this, or whatever, except— 

Like, they have a standing movie date, now. They go out for dinner twice a week, just the two of them, and all these other little best friend traditions. Nick still cooks for him, even though Dylan can honestly cook for himself, and makes a few comments that border on flirting, just past the edge of straight guy “Look how laid back I am”-style compliments. 

Dylan’s on the edge of maybe losing his goddamn mind over it—or at least, building to that—when Lawson very gently corners him about it. 

“You should ask Merks out,” 

Dylan just stares at him. “What?” 

“You should,” Lawson says. “Before it turns into a whole… pining thing.” 

“But—he’s straight?” Dylan says. “Also, what?” 

“You don’t know that for sure,” Lawson says. 

Dylan rolls his eyes. “Not everyone has an exception, Crouser.”  _ Not everyone’s exception is me,  _ his brain adds.

“But it could be good,” Lawson says. “Just think about it, okay?” 

Lawson Crouse is usually a pretty optimistic person, but Lawson Crouse in love believes in miracles, apparently. 

…… 

_ Dylan: hey  _

_ Marns: yo  _

_ Marns: sup _

_ Dylan: nm  _

 

_ Dylan: how did u get a boyfriend  _

_ Marns: lol idek  _

_ Marns: luck???  _

_ Marns: n hella soul searching  _

_ Marns: mostly luck tho  _

_ Dylan: lol  _

 

_ Marns: who r u trying 2 date  _

_ Dylan: doesnt matter hes str8  _

_ Marns: :(((((  _

_ Dylan: is it dumb that i kinda wanna go for it anyway _

 

_ Marns: definitely not dumb  _

 

_ Dylan: ty  _

_ Marns: gl  _

 

“Hey,” Nick says, and Dylan looks up from his phone. “What’re you reading?” 

“Nothing,” Dylan says, stuffing it in his pocket. “Old texts.” 

…… 

Really, it turns out, Dylan doesn’t have to do anything, because Nick kisses him first. 

“Sorry,” Nick says, blushing a bit. 

Dylan’s hand moves to touch his lips on instinct. “Huh?” 

“I, uh—I just—I wanted to do that,” Nick says. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“You—wanted to?” 

“Yeah,” Nick says. “Sorry, I didn’t—I’m not good at talking about things.” 

“Okay,” Dylan says. 

“It just took me a second to figure out what I wanted,” Nick says. “Or, a lot longer than a second. I didn’t want to make things weird and bother you if I wasn’t sure.” 

“You can talk to me about anything,” Dylan says, frowning. 

“I know,” Nick says. “But I—I also wanted to figure it out on my own, I guess. For me.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

“I wanted to,” Nick says.”I kind of already knew before.” 

“Knew what?” Dylan asks, and this whole thing feels very slightly unreal. 

“I mean,” Nick shrugs. “Guys are cute, and I didn’t know if I thought they were cute enough that I’d want to date them, but then—” he gestures at Dylan, but does not move his eyes from his feet. “Clearly I do.” 

“You—” Dylan shakes his head. “This isn’t a joke, right?” 

“What? No,” Nick says. “That’d be a really shitty joke.” 

“Just checking,” Dylan says. “So—what are you saying you want?” 

“Well, you,” Nick says. “If that’s cool.” 

“No, yeah, that’s cool,” Dylan says, and when Nick smiles— 

 

Wait. 

Holy  _ fuck.  _

 

Before Dylan knows what he’s doing, he pulls Nick in for another kiss, and Nick makes a surprised noise before kissing back with wonderful, unrefined enthusiasm. 

Dylan lets himself get caught up, for once.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> comprehensive warnings:  
> -there's a bit where a drunk character is pretty insistent that another drunk character should kiss him. he backs off, eventually.  
> -closeted thoughts and all the internalized homophobia that comes with that territory.  
> -a character displays worry about potential sexual assault, though he is quickly informed that no sexual assault happened and no boundaries were crossed.  
> -technically a character is outed to a friend by a mutual friend, though he doesn't actually mind.  
> -two panic attacks occur, one is a little more explicitly depicted.  
> -recreational drug use  
> -brief dylan/unnamed omg
> 
> this story is messy. it's about messy characters who make not-great choices. they're not bad people, they are very confused, and they are all convinced they know themselves better than they actually do. i wanted to write a story which doesn't clean up after itself, because i'm selfish and i'm learning and this was a helpful experiment for me as a writer, and as a queer person who constantly revisits their past. 
> 
> these characters are meant to be judged, i think, but also meant to be understood.


End file.
